


Tangled

by Sonny



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Hurt, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian & Michael never meet ; Michael wakes up to find himself somewhere he's not familiar with, in the company of a complete stranger, who treats him with a tenderness he's never known...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Afaf...

It’s  _different_ . It just is.

He’s taken countless photographs, seen a thousand faces through the camera lens, but the moment he’s face to face with a subject... it’s  _different_ .

Mainly because they’re right there, in his line of vision. Blink twice they’re still there, they haven’t flittered away. Refocus the lens eye, split second to vanish. Here and now, body and flesh is a mere inch away.

It’s why he can’t take but a few minutes in the room. It’s too real. It’s too warm. It’s too... much.

He’s lived his lowly life in solitude and he wanted it that way. Too much in the world became frightening. He liked it better from behind a camera. Hide his face, hide his eyes, hide who he really was. Scared to be found out that he was a fraud.

It’s better this way. It just is.

**= = = =**

Michael woke up to complete darkness. He could hear muffled sounds and smell pungent odors, but without being able to see frightened him more than he ever could’ve imagined. As he attempted to put calming images in his head, he began to fidget.

He heard the creak of springs and a clang of hollow metal, could sense the slight bounce at his back. He was on a bed. Reaching out both arms, he realized he wasn’t on a Twin mattress; his fingers caught bed linen not mattress edge. He kicked out his foot and learned he was without socks and shoes. A quick pat-down of his body showed he was dressed in nothing but his tight, skimpy underwear, but he was under a cool cotton sheet.

His perusal also discovered that with any movement to rise or re-situate himself, he was in pain. It wasn’t excruciating, but rather a dull ache that only subsided if he lay still. So that’s what he did. Curious to why exactly he couldn’t see, he let his hands wander up his neck, over jaw and along cheeks until he could feel the tape. Nothing radical like duct tape or masking tape used on packing boxes, but more purposeful, like medical tape. That tape held gauze and squares of cotton over his eyes.

Upon further examination, he learned why he had no vision, and why his eyes were covered at the moment. The skin was puffy and hot to touch. A nerve ending from each eye pinched up to his head, causing him to wince. Two black eyes... this was not good.

It loosely explained why the rest of him was in pain. Now the only thing left was to find out where he was, who exactly had taken care of him. No one came to mind of his immediate family or the small circle of close confidants.

Michael had no friends. At least not anymore.

With very little to go on, he thought back. Or tried to. Maybe his head was concussed, brain slightly rattled. He just couldn’t recall anything sooner than a few days back, almost a week ago.

Back when his life had turned to shit, starting to unravel.

Mostly it was a haze. Jumbled days with constant nights of sex, drugs and questionable antics. One night stands to orgies and ending at voyeurism and solo masturbation. He hadn’t a care in the world, so why should he care about himself?

Nobody to love, no one left who truly cared for him. Plenty wanted him, but to them he was another body to fuck. A nameless “hole” to use and discard.

Even thinking about those moments, though sad, got him aroused.

Something erotic about anonymous sex. The rougher the better. Nothing violent or abusive. But when you thought less of yourself, getting fucked fast and hard added a spice to the performance level. Being called a “slutty cunt” or a “horny bitch” seemed apt, and it was a relief to know that in only a few seconds he’d be alone again, drowning in sorrow and self-pity.

Michael wiggled in slight discomfort. He felt the stirrings and as he clenched his gut he found out his abdomen and rib cage were equally in pain.

Jesus... what could have happened to him? Had a lover gotten too rough? Had he been jumped in an alley, set on by raging homophobic attackers?

Suddenly he couldn’t lay still any longer. He had to get up despite the pain. It was a slow process, and as he sat on the side of the bed he planted bare feet flat to the floor. Rolling his toes to make “fists”, he felt smooth surface, cold to the skin. Hardwood? He tested the elasticity by standing, waiting for the usual creaks.

They didn’t come. Had to be tile or painted cement.

Now that he was upright, though bent at the waist, Michael straightened his spine as tall as he could. Through wincing and numbing pain, he managed to get to both feet, stiffening his frame to start the next steps of walking.

With hands outstretched to be sure nothing impeded his progress, Michael put one foot in front of the other. Two more awkward steps later, he found out he wouldn’t be able to go much farther. Or at least his left ankle and foot couldn’t come with him. Squatting down, he felt around his leg and down the shape as the cold metal let him know he was forbidden to leave. One good, solid yank told Michael he was temporarily chained to the bed - most likely one of the rungs of the foot-board of the bed frame.

He went from squatting to sitting, crossing his ankles and wrapping his arms around his bent knees. He lay his head down, huddling into himself and began to attempt to conjure up memories again.

Footsteps sounded; heavy, at first, then softening as they neared the door.

Michael thought about moving, getting up and climbing back under the cover. His mind was all for it, keeping the illusion of sleep. But his body felt dead tired and weary, the dull aches were beginning to roar in terrible pain. Damn. He shouldn’t have moved at all, stayed in bed.

The knob turned as the lock was released, door opening with no sound, only a rush of air.

A gust of coolness pelted Michael’s body, causing him to shiver and curl into himself more. He could hear the breathing, feel the freedom of an unlocked, open doorway and sensed the presence of another body. Smells were stronger, a slight whiff of cologne and soap, maybe a hint of sweat and burning wood.

Male, definitely. And a tall man at that.

Michael could sense the shadow looming over him. He deciphered some disappointment, a subtle sigh at seeing him out of bed and on the floor. Michael didn’t understand why he felt so bad, like he’d done something reprehensible and deserving of punishment. It was that old habit of turning submissive under duress of sexual arousal. He felt the pull as strong as the pain, so there was some relief from his injuries, but not much. He uncurled, turned his torso toward the man behind him. Tentatively, he raised his arm, hand open with fingers extended toward the stranger. Michael was quietly asking for assistance, fearful of using his voice at this point.

Michael was discouraged when he realized how much time had gone by with his hand being ignored. He dropped it once the shoulder joint began to ache. He felt saddened, like he had lost his only friend, one he never knew he had. He felt truly bereft and alone, not surrounded by anyone who truly cared for him or wanted him to...

It was then he was swiftly lifted into strong arms. Not only held close to a hard chest, but delicately cradled as if he were the most fragile flower. He was raised, then placed back down on the mattress. Michael didn’t have time to secure his arm around the neck or tuck his face next to his rescuer’s head. One minute he was up in the air, the next he was planted on soft sheets tangled on the bed.

Gone were the arms, as well as hands and fingers. The only thing that returned was the mere caress to check on the cuff about his ankle, one fingertip soothing skin, then vanished. There was a hard yank on the chain’s connection, making sure it still held. Then... nothing.

Michael couldn’t hear breathing or footsteps, not even that the presence still filled the room with him. All he could sense were the smells being present and near, or around him. He lay there, on the bed, as he had been placed, but after awhile he started to move over.

At first it looked as if he was scooting over to settle into the center of the mattress. But soon it was apparent he was wiggling in order to lower the last of his clothing. If he could have one thing as his own, Michael wanted this weird desire to subside.

Before there was even a glimpse of his cock tip or shaft, a hand clamped tight around his wrist.

“ _ **... don’t... please...”**_

The hushed plea made Michael stop and swallow hard, choking on a tender emotion.

Someone actually  _did_ care.

 **= = = =**

It was true. He didn’t know when it had actually started. He was only sure it had begun backward from this point.

It was almost as if he had a relationship with Michael. A completely warped, one-sided relationship, but at least he hadn’t been one of the many men who had broken and stomped on Michael’s heart.

Like his early observation, it was different when the subject was right under his fingertips. Or, in this case, right under the hand about the wrist.

He had climbed onto the bed with one knee, snatched that wrist and hadn’t glanced once at the semi-nudity. He wasn’t tempted at this point, though always curious. He stretched a bit, slightly hovering over Michael’s shape. He set both hands at the sides of the tiny body, pulled the elastic waistband up to hide the dark pubic hair, then tugged at the thin sheet to re-cover the body from the chill in the air. Leaning his right hand, knuckles on the mattress, the bed sinking under Michael’s weight, he brushed a few fingers over and through the dark tangle of locks, thumb grazing skin.

He bent over, placing one chaste kiss above the damaged left eye socket, then pulled back to smile faintly. He wasn’t used to smiling, really didn’t know why he was since Michael couldn’t see him. In a split second, he was off the bed, a good distance from Michael. He had turned his back, preparing to exit when he heard the single word uttered...

“ _... wait...”_

He only spun half around, giving the  _good_ side of his profile.

“ _... don’ go... please...”_

If there was anything he hated most in the world it was begging. Worse when the soft plea was being asked by someone he had growing feelings for.

“I can’t stay.”

“... jus’ until I fall ‘sleep... ‘kay?”

The request was so minor. He could be anywhere while watching Michael fall into slumber. But he knew that wasn’t what was being asked of him.

Michael tested his right side, then made the decision to roll onto that side, facing him. Still finding a niche, Michael flipped until he was nearly on his belly, with one leg drawn upward.

The bed was big enough for two. Michael extended his arm to pat down an area by him.

It took him a little longer to contemplate the action. He would’ve sufficed with pulling up a chair, or sitting on the side of the bed. There was something intimate and real about laying right next to Michael, to be able to touch him or have Michael touch him, accidentally. Of course that thought hadn’t occurred until he was finally laying there, face to face and eye to covered eye, with Michael.

He was as far over as he could be without falling off. He had crossed his arms over his chest as added protection. He pulled the hood up over his head, laying the damaged side of his face on the pillow. He couldn’t take the chance Michael would peek and see him for who he really was...

A monster. Almost creature-like.

At least with the good side of his face visible, he could give off the illusion of normalcy. Michael would know no difference and not be repulsed.

He took his task to heart, watching Michael closely until he heard the soft breaths of slumber. His eyes dropped to that lone, out-reaching hand; the knuckles torn and bruised, mild scrapes covering the pale skin. He took his own hand, reached out with one finger to trace the boney shape with a tenderness many would not have known could come from him. He went no further than the flat top of the wrist at the start of the forearm hair.

Inky black like the strands on Michael’s head, silk to touch, as well. He huddled down in the pillow, his sole concentration on this one appendage. He lowered his other arm and slipped it under Michael’s palm in a weird hand grip. He pet the top portion and found himself easily lulled into his own sleep.

 **= = = =**

Michael attempted to think back to a time when he had not only slept through the whole night, but slept well and deeply. His dreams not littered with crass and dirty perversions, slipping into nightmarish scenarios. What he had concluded was... when he was a child. That’s when he had slept best. Young, too. Barely able to feel independent, able to think of the world as one big adventure to explore.

It was just after he had lost his whole family, or what had remained of his close family after a certain traumatic squabble. His mother, Debbie, and his uncle, Victor, with Michael among them, had been kicked out of the family home. At the time they had left Michael in the dark on the “Why?”, but the siblings had plenty of vocally heated discussions on the subject that Michael had accidentally overheard the reason.

It was  _his_ fault.  _Michael_ was to blame. Not directly, but close enough to get his mother and uncle disowned along with him.

At first, Michael wanted to know why it had been his fault, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out. Especially when his mother would utter “like father, like son!”. Michael’s real father had never known him, killed in action in Vietnam the year he was born. The only “father” Michael had known since he could say the word “Daddy”, and know what it meant, was his Uncle Vic. Uncle Vic was gay. Michael deduced that if he was like his father then he must be gay, too.

Michael really had no clue what that meant. To be... “gay”. Kids at school used it a lot. When he had looked it up in the dictionary, he had read it meant “happy”. He had to agree that was somewhat correct. Not all the time. The way the bullies and tyrants said the word, it had a bad connotation. Like it made you dirty and weird, an outcast in society.

He remembered the day he learned the new meaning of “gay”, which was sometimes termed “homosexual”. It was when he also learned about the birds and the bees, how different men and women were from each other. He had to admit learning this from his mother had been a little embarrassing, especially since she had grown frustrated with Michael’s confused looks and thought drawings and diagrams would get her point across clearer. When Uncle Vic stepped in and took over, Michael lost his confusion and began to grasp the knowledge.

Now Michael was left with only one last question, which unfortunately had never been answered. The only thing left to be curious about was what had really transpired to make anyone think he was “gay” or showed “gay tendencies”? He had only been a young child, not able to get into the kinds of scandals gay adults did.

A fatal car accident had taken the lives of both his mother and uncle. Michael was left an orphan, a ward of the State as the only remaining relative - his aunt - refused to take him in. Placed into countless foster homes, Michael finally ran away for good at sixteen. He found and made his own family with other kids like him on the streets. It stuck with him, the idea he could be “gay”, or different than other kids his age. He had never once found himself truly attracted to another male until he lived hand to mouth, sometimes selling his body for food and clothes. He was lucky to not look his age, always young and adorable, almost “little boy-like". By the time he was ready for college, he set himself right. He got a job and worked on getting an education. Didn’t last long as he found himself mixing with the wrong crowds, back to square one.

He did fall in love, though. Once. A pretty boy jock. Wanted to be a lawyer, just like the rest of the men in his family. It wasn’t until he was close to graduation that he dumped Michael. They had been living together, off campus, living and loving for most of their junior and senior years. They had great sex, loud sex that woke the neighbors. And just when Michael thought life was good again, it turned even worse.

Family obligations and still being closeted forced Michael’s boyfriend back home. Back home where he easily slipped into the family law office and started dating one of the other partner’s daughters. Michael knew every promise made to him was empty, but it hadn’t stopped his heart from loving harder, breaking deeper. He knew he’d never love that openly, with everything in him. Or he would try not to.

And he didn’t, rather successfully. Since there was no true love or deep emotions in Michael’s life, his dreams became affected. He never slept longer than three or four hours at a time, catching cat naps on the sly where he could. Sometimes he woke up still stuck in a dream state, sometimes confusing reality and fantasy. Mostly he stayed awake as long as possible, until he passed out.

Today Michael had woken up feeling different. Even sensing he was in a different place. Odd, since his eyes were still covered. He was dressed now, almost fully. Pajama bottoms and a tank-t. He yawned, not feeling any pain nor much of an ache leftover.

Michael sat up as the door to the room was pushed open. He heard a light laugh as the sound of curtains being thrown open caused him to turn his head toward the light and heat.

“Hello?” He called out in curiosity.

“Afternoon, sir.”

The voice wasn’t the same. It was airy and smiling. Female. Her scent was of working with Earth - dirt and water... a faint odor of flowers hit him.

“Sorry...” He gestured to his eyes. “... I don’ know..."

“Yes, yes...” The clicking of the tongue on the roof of the mouth showed a dislike, but not of Michael. More of the predicament he had been in. “... I’m Josette Myler. I’ll be your ‘nurse’ during your stay here.”

“Here?”

“Oh... did your husband not tell you?”

Michael paled, feeling cold.  _Husband_ ? Oh. My. He swallowed and gave out a small gin. “Memory.” He tapped his forehead, near the temple. “Comes and goes.”

“Ah... yeah... he did let me an’ the Doc look over your medical records. Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive, Mrs. Myler. Is my, uh... _hus-band_ around?” That word was going to take some getting used to.

Josette made another sound, a  _tsk-tsk_ , as she moved to the next window. “Yes. I told him it wasn’t needed, but he’s outside... helping weed and trim the landscape. That man...hrmm, has been up since dawn. I told him I needed to fix up the new patch of dirt for my vegetable garden... and he hasn’t stopped since.” She went to one of the windows to check. “Eh, he’s inside now. Another small break of drink and snack, probably.” The next sound was the turning of a knob to open another door, which let in a cool breeze.

“Is it-? Can you tell him I’d like to speak to him?”

“Of course, dear. I’ll give you two a half-hour and then I’m coming back to help you to your bath and change your dressings. Deal?”

Michael had to smile. It had been too long since he had a bit of “mothering” in his life. “Yes. That sounds great.”

“I’ll leave the door wide open, Michael.”

“Fine. Thanks.”

Michael waited until he heard the footsteps grow softer. He sat up, swinging his legs from under the covers. Planting his feet flat on the floor, he bent low to check that no chain bound his ankle to the bed. Even though none did, he remained seated. He was feeling the aftereffects of too much sleep, dizzy and drained of energy.

He hadn’t even picked up the new footsteps when he heard the light knock of a knuckle, then the familiar voice from before.

“... michael... i’s me...” Breathy and deep, so as not to shock Michael in fear. 

Michael shivered inwardly. How could his name sound so...  _different_ when said with such a tinge of possession?

“You have me at a disadvantage...” He swiveled to face the man, drawing up one leg to rest on the bed. “... it would be nice to know what I’m to call my own _husband_.”

There was a soft chuckle, it echoed about the open space of the room. “... yeah, good point. Call me... ‘Aaron’.”

“Are you sure?” Michael lifted one lone eyebrow in query.

The man chuckled deep and loud this time. “Why?”

“You hesitated. It was like you just made it up, out of the blue.”

“No. It’s mine.”

And that... was all the explanation Michael would get. Michael wasn’t quite satisfied.

“Because...?”

“Now that I’ve kept you hidden perfectly, you and I both needed aliases to protect ourselves.”

Whoa. Michael hadn’t expected that type of response. The blatant, and curt, honesty was refreshing.

“We’re not in Pittsburgh, are we?”

“No. We’re not even in the United States.”

“Why?”

Aaron was making his way about the room, coming closer to Michael. “I’m told we only have a half-hour.” He leaned on one of the end posts at the foot-board. “Let’s make the most of it.”

Michael had no idea what that meant, but he could sense Aaron venture nearer, coming around the bed frame and sitting down on the side of the bed. “What’s going on?”

“Huh?” Aaron swallowed the bite of food he’d taken, handing Michael the other half of his sandwich. He smiled from the side of his mouth when he noticed how eager Michael was, not even bothering to find out what the “food” was first. 

“What’s Our Story? What are we, the happily gay married couple?”

Aaron crossed his ankles, shaking his head as he laughed lightly. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. I have a glass of tea, if you’d like to wash it down.” He saw Michael’s hand come out instantly the second he mentioned the tea. As Michael turned to grab the glass to hand over, Aaron kept talking. “Why did you say ‘happy’?”

“What?”

“What gives you the idea I’ve told them we’re ‘happy’?”

“You didn’t?” That shocked Michael a bit. “This isn’t, like, some kind of celebration or ‘honeymoon’ for us? How did you play off us being here?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve told them enough to keep them off our backs. I did, though, have to conjure up a better story to explain your injuries, why you had to arrive unconscious.”

Michael took a hard swallow with a gulp of tea. Hmm... no wonder he had a huge chunk of time missing. And it explained why he didn’t recall arriving here. “How long have I been out?”

“Since you and I last spoke... forty-eight hours.” Aaron watched the answer sink into Michael’s mind and settle over his features. “I had been waiting for the call, about our new passports and papers. Once I had them, I had to make a choice for both of us.” He turned to face Michael, drawing up his own leg, but allowing the booted foot to dangle over the mattress. “Did I do the right thing?”

Michael paused mid-chew, taking another sip of tea. “Uhm, I suppose... since I’m not really sure why you took me in the first place.” Aaron surely didn’t talk like a kidnapper. Nor had he treated Michael like a prisoner - well, except for that chain on his ankle in the last room. “I’m at a loss as to making a sound judgment call.”

Aaron nodded his head, letting out spurts of snickering through his nostrils as he finished off the last of his sandwich. “Fair enough.” He brushed his palms together to wipe away bread crumbs. He tried to swipe back the glass, but Michael hid it from him. Then he stood, right in front of Michael, found a weak point where Michael wasn’t aware of him or his moves, and took the glass. Once he'd taken a swill, he stretched out to place the glass in a reachable position, on the nightstand. “I promise...” Aaron pat a spot on Michael’s thigh. “... later tonight, after we’ve had dinner, we’ll talk. And you can ask me anythin-” He looked down at the tight grip on his bare forearm from Michael’s hand. “What?” He couldn’t help watching the touch, the way the hand and fingers slid up his arm, attaching to his biceps.

Michael moved to stand, the action causing Aaron to falter backward, but catch himself in balance. This feeling had begun when Aaron had taken a seat next to him, this calm and familiarity. He was recalling the last time he had been conscious, how aroused he’d been and how gentlemanly Aaron had been to deny him. The kiss, the soft brush of a hand. Michael knew Aaron had been clothed, possibly in jeans and a sweater or sweatshirt. The room temp had been almost freezing.

Here, in this very room, Michael could feel the heat, the temperate breeze, the light and warmth of the sun. He could smell the sweat; the grit and grime of dirt and plants. A slight stench of gasoline and grease. As his hand reached the shoulder, he felt the strap of the tank-t, the moistness of perspiration. His hand flattened at the collar, under the throat and stayed there. Aaron finally spun to face him fully, now Michael could compare their heights. He liked the contrast, how tiny he felt next to a big, strapping male. It got him off, thinking that Aaron was larger, stronger and probably meaner than him. Someone he could be attracted to in the real world.

“ _... don’t...”_

The hushed plea startled Michael. “What?”

“... whatever your mind wants to do, whatever your body thinks it wants.”

Michael laughed off the nervousness. “Oh, so... wedded bliss in name only, huh?”

Aaron placed his own hands over Michael’s on his upper chest. He leaned low, lightly skimming their foreheads and bumping nose tips. “... there you go again... having some idea marriage to me would make you ‘happy’...” He was getting a little enjoyment from Michael’s slip-ups. He slid his cheek along Michael’s face until he reached an ear. “... put your arms around me. Our half-hour’s almost up.”

This was a slight warning that Josette was making her way up the stairs and possibly nearing the doorway of their room.

Funny how a soft, rumbling command caused Michael to immediately respond. Aaron bent to accommodate, then secured his own arms about Michael’s small waist. He lifted him off his feet, burying his face in the dark hair as hands soothed lovingly over the expanse of wide back, one hand accidentally slipping up, then under the tank-t’s hem.

Josette made a noise, under breath, as she stood in the doorway. “Well, if the sight of you two don’t do this ticker some good...” She sounded envious, but only somewhat.

Michael hated being let go of so quickly. Of losing those strong arms. The weird way Aaron coddled and caressed him, as if he really loved him, held affections for him. It was a heady rush of need, of want.

It was a feeling Michael hadn’t had in years, never knowing how much he longed for it. Even more than sex. A simple sense of belonging. Belonging to someone.

 

**= = = =TBC...= = = =**


	2. Chapter 2

For the rest of the day, Michael did nothing but relax and accompany Josette around the house. He recalled house chores with his mother, but hadn’t ever felt the need to serve purpose after her death. He never knew when the foster family would tire of him and send him on his way. He never felt indebted to follow anyone’s rules but his own. And it had been an even longer time since he enjoyed company, actually seeking them out.

In Josette’s re-dressing of his eyes, she had been pleased with the rapid healing process and had gone lighter with the cotton and gauze. She also tested his vision, which had improved toward the good at about ten percent. She still didn’t want him to strain to “see”, she knew the attempt would give him terrible headaches. The cuts and bruises he’d sustained elsewhere were healing nicely, nearly disappearing. Josette still rubbed the antibacterial salve on them, just in case.

At three in the afternoon, promptly, Michael was introduced to Josette’s husband, who was - coincidentally - the Doc she had been mentioning. Michael had wondered about their bond as Josette’s tone became affectionate when she said his name. They were retired, no kids. Several years of living in sin had caused them to run away together. Doc worked in town, with the locals. Josette would often help out, especially when Doc would do house calls.

Michael felt useful, for once. But what he loved even more was that sticking by Josette’s side allowed him to be with Aaron. Locked away in the bedroom, Michael knew he wouldn’t catch Aaron’s breaks from work outside. The best parts were when Aaron did something insignificant to acknowledge him; a hand to his lower back, a sweet kiss on the temple or a tiny hug with one arm so he wouldn’t get Michael covered in sweat. Michael got an instant thrill when he heard Aaron speak or laugh... or cough. Even his presence in the room caused a gut reaction.

Strangely, not only was Michael feeling a tug in his belly, but in his heart. It was tempting to lose himself in the fantasy. Aaron’s voice was distinctive and told Michael enough to feel an attraction. He almost didn’t care about looks -  _almost_ . From what his other senses could figure out, Aaron had everything going for him, just the kind of man Michael had fallen for ever since college.

It was also odd to feel ease; a contentedness in domesticity. He never thought about marriage for gay men, never once figured it would be something he’d become fond of, hopeful for, in his own life. Didn’t take Michael long to realize he knew why this was so easy.

No distractions. Cut off from the world. He had heard a phone ring - maybe, once - but that was just so Josette’s neighbor could tell her the mail had arrived. She had been about to go out on her own, as Doc was taking his usual afternoon nap before his early supper, but Michael wouldn’t hear of it. 

With a quick peck on his lips and a gentle caress of knuckles on his cheek, Aaron sent the two fast friends off on their journey.

Michael didn’t know why, but as they became distant from the front yard, he leaned over and asked Josette something rather important he’d been curious about.

“ Mrs. Josie... can you tell if he’s watching?”

“ Huh?” Josette hadn’t been paying too much attention, just basking in how beautiful the day was. 

“ Aaron.” Michael could sense her beginning to turn to look. “Don’t! Don’t let him see you. But... is he looking at us, now, as we walk away?”

Josette tsked under her breath, stopping and turning Michael to face her as she pretended to fiddle with his buttoned shirt and collar. “I swear... if I didn’t know you two were already-” She shook her head and lightly swat at Michael’s arm. “... you’re like love-struck teenagers, you are!”

“ Well...” Michael felt his face go red in embarrassment, biting the side of his cheek in eager anticipation. He didn’t know why this fact was so important to him.

“ ... yes... YES!” Josette tucked her arm back into Michael’s elbow, sending them on to walking again. “That poor man is always watchin’ you. Whether you’re comin’ or goin’.”

Michael chuckled, smoothing a hand over his chest to sense his heart beats. “I thought so. We were... kind of a, uh... whirlwind meeting. I guess I’m hoping he doesn’t lose that, you know, ‘fire’ for me he has.”

“ Oh, lovie...” Josette soothed over Michael’s biceps. “... you may have lucked out an’ found yourself a good one. Happens so rarely an’ - honestly - I’ve dreamed of the day this would happen.” The words were out before Josette could stop them. Damn. “Gosh!... now I’ve gone an’ done it.” She put a hand over her mouth to stop more from falling out. “I promised him I wouldn’t say nothin’.”

“ Say  _what nothin’_ ?” Michael kept the pace even, not stopping once to give Josette the idea he was curious or worried. 

“ We knew Br-uhm... Aaron. When we used to live back in Pit-where we used to live.” Josette let her hand brush over her face. This was a lot harder to keep secret than she had thought. So easy to promise, but not easy to keep. “I had been a newly graduated registered nurse in Doc’s office an’ he specialized in pediatrics. We both adored children. The work became both our lives.” Josette cleared her throat, going on. “I couldn’t have any of my own an’ Doc was working on jus’ two years of a loveless marriage. Some shrew of a woman who couldn’t bother to ruin her fine figure carrying a child of Doc’s.” She shook her head in sadness. “Acgh! Sometimes it’s those who want, who can’t have, an’ those who can have that... squander an’ abuse the privilege. Anyway...” Josette brought her head back over to look at Michael’s profile, seeing his interest at the tilt of his own head. “... le’s jus’ say, Doc saw Aaron more than he should have.”

“ Wha-? Why?” Michael furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued now.

“ No. Sorry.” Josette pat Michael’s arm hard. “This is  _his_ turn now. Doc and I speculated, talked enough with Social Services to put Aaron’s Daddy on alert.” She slowed down the pace as they were coming closer to the mailbox area. “We never saw the boy past age twelve. Oh, well... tha’s not right. We saw him - little boy grown up. Always in the papers. Doin’ fine on his own, it seemed. He got... rather popular for a while. Famous even. Then...”

Michael couldn’t believe she was really going to stop there. “Then...?”

“ Yeah, no. Sorry, again. Tha’s where I have to end this. Aaron can tell it better.” Josette broke away from Michael, leaving him near one of the poles holding the boxes. She put his hand around the circumference so he could feel the cool metal. “He’s still the most beautiful boy to me.” She pulled out a ring of keys, one used to open her mailbox. “... those eyes of his... lordy, they killed me when he was nine - all red an’ puffy, tear-filled an’ moist cheeks with dried tracks...” She cleared her throat, nearly overcome with emotions again. “Now they kill me dead with one look. Such a sad, sad thing to happen to him.” Josette sighed heavily, taking out what little mail they had to collect, gripping everything in one hand. She locked the mailbox back up. “Doc got back in touch later, when we decided to move out here to get away from it all. Told him if he ever needed to find ‘home’, we always had a place for him.”

Michael really had no words. His heart was in his throat. He tried to swallow, but felt his eyes mist with tears. He thought his own story was sad. How lucky for him to find a fellow pathetic human being. “Thank you.” This time he fit his hand within the bend of Josette’s elbow. He kept his steps going slightly behind her, allowing her to lead them. His legs felt wobbly suddenly, needing to sit down, wanting to think hard on everything he’d been told.

“ For what?”

“ Being honest with me. Aaron... he...” How exactly did he let Josette know he was married to a man he knew nothing about? “... he tends to hold back, but I can’t help but feel there’s more.”

“ There is, honey... there is. Just be patient. Love him no matter what.” Josette pat a hand over Michael’s on her arm. “You’re doing a great job so far.”

Michael had to laugh heartily. Oh, if Josette only knew.

**= = = =**

Aaron was alone, out on the small terrace, when he heard the footsteps approach. He spun quickly, to his good side, finding Michael in the doorway. His arms were extended outward, displaying the fact something on him was changed.

“ Well? How do I look?”

Aaron did notice Michael had put on a different shirt, and a pair of navy blue trousers. But now there was a pair of dark shades on his face. “You do realize the sun went down about an hour ago?”

“ Ah-ha!” Michael whipped off the sunglasses to show his bandages were off. “Josette thinks at night I can start to let the wounds air out, for an hour or two.”

Aaron had flinched, gripping the thick wooden railing tight. “Great. You must be relieved.”

Michael put the shades back on, sticking a hand out to feel for the back of one of the loungers. “Don’t worry. Still blind as a fuckin’ bat.” He shared a laugh with Aaron. “I can open the right eye, but not so much on the left. Makes me wonder what the other guy looked like.” He tried to laugh off the worry, not sure what Aaron planned on telling him about that night he got hurt.

“ There was no ‘other guy’.” Aaron stated plainly, no mistaking the answer.

“ Hmm?”

“ Try... more than one.”

“ What?” Michael wrinkled his brow, caught between shock and curiosity. “Like a ‘gang’?”

“ Sort of. But not really.”

“ Aaron...” Michael slid along the shape of the lounger to attempt to gauge how far it would be to reach the railing.

Aaron put down his glass, then moved to guide Michael to the ledge. He couldn’t help his hand from raising to brush through the waves and curled tangles of Michael’s hair. “I’m having a difficult time dealing with this length.” His fingers ended up combing through the bottom strands to land on the slope of Michael’s shoulder.

“ How so?” A lone dark eyebrow rose and Michael heard the quiet exclamation of “fuck”. “Aaron, what...?” He felt him pulling back, trying to walk away. Michael grabbed for the elbow, but missed.

“ I’m not sure telling you now or later tonight would make much of a difference.”

“ How do you mean?”

“ I’ve been... keeping some things from you.”

“ You mean like the fact you know Doc and Josette?”

“ Oh, man...” Aaron had to laugh. He knew Josette wouldn’t stay silent for long. “... an’ so much more.”

“ How much more?”

“ Everything. I’m...” Aaron sighed heavy, turning his back to Michael and wandering down the railing. “... I’m tired. It’s exhausting holding in so many secrets this long. You’re almost completely healed and... well, you’ll know the truth once you can see for yourself.”

Michael hated Aaron being so far away from him. “Do I know you?” He licked his lips wet and swallowed. “DID I know you?” What kind of cruel twist of fate to be face to face with an ex-lover whom he couldn’t remember.

“ No.  _I knew of you_ .”

“ Oh, really?” Whoa, this was more intriguing than the idea Michael had before.

“ No... no. It’s not like  _that_ . Look...” Aaron walked over to Michael, tenderly taking his arm to slide down to the hand and leading him to a lounger. “... sit down, please. If I’m gonna let it all out, I’d rather you be seated, not standing next to a ledge.” He took a seat on the opposite lounger, wanting to make Michael feel more comfortable with what he had to say.

Michael had to chuckle. “You think I’d kill myself or something?” Forgetting the premise of the comment, he cared more about how concerned for him Aaron was acting.

“ No. Not anymore.” Aaron leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. “Before...” He rolled his hand in mid-air. “... your actions could be considered... questionable.”

“ _You knew of me_ ... so you live in The Pitts?” Michael was excited about this prospect. Just in case things went good between them here, it was nice to know Aaron would be close after this was over, whatever “this” was.

“ Born and raised.” Feeling a little nervous, Aaron reached out to tug on the knees of Michael’s trousers. “But I work between Pittsburgh and Philadelphia.”

“ But you  _live_ in Pittsburgh?” Michael didn’t know why he was so worried that Aaron would say he didn’t reside there, on a permanent basis. 

“ I have a loft, yes.”

“ Did you hold a party and I was there?”

“ No. You and I have never met.” Aaron let out a long breath he’d been holding in. He glanced up to notice that Michael kept his head turned away, like he was more contemplative than trying to peek at what Aaron looked like. 

Michael swiveled his head back to stare down. Aaron had kept his hands on his knees. He could feel the pressure, the slight heaviness, the way the fingers kept brushing in a circular pattern around the kneecap beneath. “H-h-how... did you know where to find me, you know... when I had my, uhm... accident?” He nervously pushed up the bridge of the shades, keeping his eyes shut so he could simply feel what Aaron would do to him as he talked. Michael didn’t want to be distracted by anything else.

“ I followed you.”

“ You stalked me.” Michael wasn’t sure why he found it hilarious, but he chuckled.

Aaron lightly joined in on the chuckle, then scratched at the side of his face. Now he steepled his fingers, interlocking them to rest between his knees. “It’s my job.”

“ Excuse me!” Michael felt the need to scoot away, backward on the cushion to rest on the arced portion.

Aaron went to grab for one of Michael’s hands, keeping it between his own palms. “Please... Michael...” He didn’t like the fact that Michael had moved away, in possible disgust. “I work for the Pittsburgh Gazette.”

Now Michael was confused. “But I’m not anyone special. I’m nobody.”

“ Eh, beg to differ.” Aaron cleared his throat, ready to pursue this conversation even further. “Senator Conrad thinks you’re important enough to silence.”

“ I’m sorry...” Michael was perplexed. He had heard of a Senator Conrad before, around the city, but had no idea why he was of importance to him. And the word “silence” didn’t carry a good connotation the way Aaron said it. “I don’t follow.”

“ Miles. Miles Conrad.” Aaron was noticing how saying the first name and the last was starting to register with Michael. “Senator. Miles. Conrad.” Saying the full name made Michael even more aware of who he meant. “You’re often coming out of a condo he rents downtown.”

“ Miles?” Michael shook his head, not believing one word of this... reason. “Miles is a senator?” The more he let it settle in his mind, the more... ridiculous it sounded. “Conservative Conrad?”

“ ... so you weren’t aware?” Aaron had figured Michael hadn’t know who Miles was, though any information he had gathered proved different.

“ I don’t follow politics. I follow parties.” Michael tried to joke, to lighten the quickly sobering mood.

“ I know.” Aaron now reached out to take both of Michael’s wrists in his hands. “... trust me... I know...”

Michael heard the softening of the tone. There was such a gentle way Aaron held his wrists, like he was showing sympathy with Michael’s plight, that other life he had lived months back in The Pitts. “How long have you been-?” He hated to think Aaron had gathered an idea of him, one that didn’t fit his true nature. He knew he gave out a public persona that was much different than his personal one, but he rarely let anyone close enough to know the real Michael Charles Novotny.

“ About a month after it was leaked you two were ‘dating’.” Aaron used the word loosely, since he really only had his own side to go on. For all he knew, Michael could be in love with the Senator, which was why he was being so careful about what he was saying. “You’re still seeing him, right?”

Michael wished he could say “yes”, but it was such an off-n-on fling with Miles. He simply dropped whatever he was doing when Miles called him on his cell phone. “Off and on...” He bent his head, chin to chest, in mild shame. “He comes to town so rarely. I thought he was just a closet-case with a wife and kids.”

Aaron nodded his head, soothing his thumbs over Michael’s skin. “They thought about ‘hush money’, but Mrs. Conrad’s got a tight reign on cash flow, in and out of the campaign and their private life. Conrad’s enemies have gotten word of 'affairs’, but...”

“ ... they don’t know it’s me. Another man. Or that Miles could possibly be gay.” Michael could now comprehend a few things that had been weird between he and Miles for the last few times they had met up. Odd that it came to his memory so readily.

“ No. No they don’t.”

“ And my, uhm... accident...” Michael lightly rubbed at the corner of his right eye, pointing out his still healing black eyes. 

Aaron raised one hand to touch Michael’s cheek, soothing down its shape and along the jawline. “That wasn’t Conrad. He still thinks Jonathon - his campaign manager - is finding other ways to pay you off, to keep you quiet.”

“ So Jonny had ‘other’ ideas how to deal with me?”

“ You know him?” Aaron didn’t know why he was startled by the knowledge. Maybe because Michael’s face distorted into something akin to hatred or dislike.

“ Oh, yeah...” Michael snickered out a shaky sound. “Miles isn’t the only one who’s closeted.”

“ ... jesus...” Aaron let go of Michael’s hands, then brushed his fingers through his long locks, keeping the fingers interlocked behind his head.

“ That’s it?” Michael tried to play off that he wasn’t overwhelmed by everything. He surely couldn’t interpret Aaron’s reaction if he couldn’t feel him near or touch him in some way.

“ What?”

“ With us? You and I?” Michael gestured between their bodies. “I’m nothing more than a story to you?” He heard the muttered explicatives. Aaron got up and wandered away, swiping up his glass and began to pace back and forth, his shoes scraping the floor. “Wha-? What’s wrong?” He wasn’t angry or upset, not in the least. At least now he understood where he was with Aaron, why they had come together in the oddest of ways. “It’s okay if I am. While I’m grateful for the help, and now the protection while I recuperate... it’s good to know I can walk away from this... unaffected.” Now Michael stood, his ear helping him follow Aaron’s hurried steps.

“ At first, yes... you were nothing more than a story. ‘Arm candy’ in Conrad’s secret past.” Aaron paused, far enough away from Michael to be in the shadows, able to stare. “I brought my editor the first photo of you. I figured it was done. No. He wanted more. He told me it would become solid proof so Conrad couldn’t claim we ‘staged’ the moment or forged the pictures.” He cleared his throat, walking over to Michael. “As I followed you, I got to know you. Granted, it was mostly from behind my lens, but... I’ve been able to ‘see’ more into people this way than actual face to face time.”

“ ... you’re a photographer?” Michael swallowed the lump in his throat. He could feel his heart racing inside his chest, his body feeling the typical heightened senses whenever Aaron was nearby.

“ Used to be. I treated it like an art form, at first. Then I slowly built up a clientèle of people. Famous people. Movies, TV, sports, music... ordinary folk from all walks of life. I dabbled here and there with fashion. Then - I don’t know - I wanted to see the world. Find real humanity. Tired of glitz and glamor.”

“ Then what?” Michael was remembering what little Josette had told him about Aaron during their walk. He could feel the rise of emotions, some sad, some excited, but mostly that he wanted to know more and more. Whatever Aaron would tell him to let him in closer.

“ Well... it wouldn’t be worth it if I spilled it all now.” Aaron lifted a hand to grab the side of Michael’s neck, lightly shaking him. “Besides...” He bent, placing a soft kiss on slightly open lips. “... you know everything pertaining to you.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“What do I matter?”

Michael had a strange sense that Aaron was about to walk away, possibly storm off. He instinctively reached out, from earlier sensations, and grabbed on tight to the muscular arm, right above the bend of the elbow joint. “... wait!” His voice cracked. He could hear Aaron’s quickening breaths, nearly felt the blood pumping fast toward his heart. “You DO matter.” Michael released the arm, but only so he could readjust his stance and slide his hands up to latch onto the sides of Aaron’s neck. He repeated the shaking Aaron had done to him, hoping to work out the stiffness, loosening him to bend. Michael stood on tip toes to heave forward and soundly kiss Aaron properly, lips he’d been dying to taste further.

Fingers were lost in long strands of slicked back hair. Aaron made a high moan under his throat, letting himself fall into the kiss. It had been too long since he’d kissed someone he cared for deeply, who could possibly feel the same for him. A mutual desire and attraction. He sent one arm around Michael’s back, lifting him to place them at equal heights. Then he walked them backward to a lounger, slowly lowering their joined bodies as one unit. Aaron used his other hand, arm extended and palm flat to the cushion, as leverage as he lay Michael down.

Michael welcomed the weight above him, not finding it heavy or oppressive. He slid his hands down the elongated torso, then up around the shape of the waist to hold Aaron as close to his body as possible, without being naked. They’d broken the kiss seconds ago, now just nudging and rubbing their faces together. Michael arced his head, offering out a portion of his neck. He wanted lips with tender kisses, but a nose with bare skims of lips were fine, too. Michael widened the spread of his legs to give Aaron a niche to fit into. The movement caused their bodies - groins, especially - to brush once or twice.

Aaron couldn’t hide anymore. His arousal apparent, and causing Michael to writhe under him in pure ecstasy, made him pause in his own actions, hands now clamped on the shape of the cushions, arms straight and upper half hovering above Michael. As he took the silent moment to contemplate Michael below him, he knew this wasn’t what he wanted. There had to more. 

Michael furrowed his brow with worry and confusion. “... what?... what is it?... what am I doing wrong?” Rejection was never his strong suit.

“ ... you matter to me, too.” Aaron pulled away, reluctantly. “You’re not just some casual fuck for me.” He was able to sit on the side of the lounger, letting Michael sit upright. He stared ahead, elbows on knees, as Michael conformed to his side.

Michael soothed his hand over the chest, working the buttons undone to slide fingers through to the bare flesh. He gently bit down on the round shape of the shoulder. He had wanted men before, craved them, even. No names. Couldn’t recall a face if he tried. This was the first time, in a very long while, he had not only wanted to know Aaron’s full name, but every intricate detail of his private life, right down to every inch of his naked body. Michael had experienced possession before, sometimes being the aggressor. Never before had he wanted to be taken so badly, with no thought to the outcome. Possessed by a faceless man with only one name and very little to go on about his life or who he was.

If Aaron had meant to distract him, frustrate him or get Michael to outright despise him, it hadn’t worked. Though the back history he had been told seemed outrageous and unfathomable, Michael couldn’t help feeling that through everything Aaron had turned a simple dislike of him into true respect and, maybe, affection. Somebody had grown to care about him, despite knowing parts of his life he was ashamed of. It amazed Michael to think he could do no wrong in Aaron’s eyes, and that he suddenly wanted to be good and not disobey. No matter how aroused he had become.

Aaron snatched the wrist of the curiously exploring hand, then cradled the shape in both of his hands. He pressed kisses, soothing his cheek on the warm skin. “It’ll be dinner soon. We should head down.”

Michael tucked himself closer to Aaron’s body, loving that the arm finally moved to let him in. “A few more minutes. I’m not quite done holding you yet.”

Aaron lightly chuckled, his chin to Michael’s brow. “... okay...”

**= = = =**

Michael blamed it on the pain pill and the delicate way Josette had cleaned, then re-bandaged his eyes. The minute he climbed into bed, under covers, his head hit the pillowcase and he was out like a light. He had meant to stay up, waiting to see if Aaron came to share the bed with him. He couldn’t recall if Aaron had taken things that far to carry out their secret life. Michael didn’t mind admitting he desperately wanted the company, if only just as another warm body beside him to hold him or touch him, to know he had someone with him and he wasn’t alone anymore.

He jarred himself to consciousness. Finding he had flipped to lay completely on his stomach. He turned his head to blink awake and into focus. His brain never making the connection that now he could see with both eyes and it wasn’t weird after falling asleep with them being covered. He went with the pleasure and enjoyment, sighing and stretching to then curl his body as he flipped over, glancing at the empty side of the mattress. 

Yes, still not taken by Aaron. Michael reached out his arm, hand down to grab a fistful of linens in frustration. The strangeness of his fantasy hadn’t clicked in yet, even as his eyes raised to find someone approaching the bed frame. Face still nondescript, the body had alternate lines of light and dark striped across that moved with every step he took. The voice was unmistakable - Aaron. Michael rose to his elbows and admired from the shadows.

“ ... you’re here...”

“ ... have you been waiting for me?...”

Michael had to swallow hard and keep his emotions in check. That was quite a loaded question. He watched Aaron plant a knee on the bed, swinging the other up and over to crawl toward him; naked and very aroused. In this fantasy world, Michael still couldn’t trust that he could have what he most wanted - love. His brain went back to all those years with men and thinking he was only there for one purpose - to service them. He stopped Aaron - or the entity that  _felt_ like Aaron - and had him stand on his knees.

It really was a gorgeous cock. Utter perfection in flesh tones and size. Stiff and throbbing, rising from a bed of dark pubic curls. Testicles dangling behind and tight to the body. Clean, dome-ed mushroom head jutting outward, waiting to be tasted, engulfed in a warm orifice.

Hand at the back, cupping one ass cheek, Michael latched onto the stalk of the organ. He tantalized with licks, first, then gradually suckled on the tip. Hips did move, a sharp intake of breath and then... that hand petting his hair, massaging the scalp.

Not grabbing a clump of hair and roughly motioning Michael up and down to give the proper blowjob.

That was Michael’s signal that this wasn’t real. He pulled back, sat upright and touched his face. No puffy, hot eye sockets; no bandages or shades. And he could see. He deeply chuckled, a small smirk on his lips as he looked to his left. Aaron was now lounging on the bed, still naked, but strategically curved to hide the “essentials” from view. He lay against Michael, a similar smirk on his own face.

“ How do you feel?”

“ How do you  _think_ I feel?” He held out his hands to show he wasn’t covered in his old injuries. “It’s like it never happened.”

And just as Michael declared the situation never to have happened... Aaron was gone. The rooms colors in permanent darkness shifting. Michael pat around the bed and blankets.

“ ... no, no... no, no, no, no... NO!” He didn’t want to be  _here_ . Not without Aaron. Where was he anyway? Back home? In Pittsburgh?

Grabbing the thin sheet, Michael wrapped his nakedness as he wandered across the carpeting. He could hear voices, muffled and distant. They were in the next room. As he crept further along the floor, he saw a patch of light through a cracked door. The voices were becoming slightly raised, coherent. As Michael set his fingers on the knob, he was able to open the paneling wider without making any noise.

It was Miles and Jonathon. The view he could see was from the dresser mirror. They would have no idea anyone could see them if Michael only watched the reflections, which he did.

“ Then it’s settled.”

“ I still think he’ll go away quietly if we just pay him off. A nice chunk of change he can retire on.”

“ And what if THEY have a better offer, a more enticing chunk of change? Now he’s got our money, their money and we’re right back where we started. There’s only one way to be sure he won’t ever talk...”

“ Don’t. Don’t even say it out loud. I can’t think of what you’d-”

“ Let me handle everything, from here on out. Leaves you less culpable from damage control. You’ll have complete deniability.”

“ Except now I’m indebted to you.”

“ Jesus... not this shit again.”

“ It’s different this time.”

“ ... and you know what happens then, too. You nearly lost your footing on  _that_ one, until I stepped in to save your ass.”

“ Baby...”

“ Miles... when are you gonna learn I’m all you’re ever going to need... and at least I won’t ever tell...”

Michael couldn’t hear or see them anymore. They had moved out of range, away from the mirror to the bed. He quietly crept backward, re-shutting the door frame. He knew he wasn’t about to stay. He would snatch up his clothes and leave, worry about what he’d overheard later. He ran out of the condo, in the dead of night, feeling like he had phantoms on his tail, chasing him home. He could barely register his surrounding, hailing a cab and rode back to his apartment in a numb state of denial.

It was funny how Michael had focused on the fact that Miles had done something like this before. What? Carry on an affair with a gay man or dope one into thinking this ‘thing’ could actually mean something? He didn’t know how or why - they had never uttered his name specifically - but Michael knew they were discussing him. How to deal with or get rid of him so he wouldn’t be given an incentive to talk to anyone, especially the newspapers; dirty rags or respectable news men.

Hard to do that when three goons nearly beat you to a bloody pulp, leaving you for dead in a dark, dank alley. Had Aaron not shown up, Michael knew he would be dead or worse, comatose or so far gone it would’ve taken a miracle to come back to the living. Despite their odd bond, Michael owed Aaron his life. Now how would he ever be able to fulfill that kind of repayment?

This time Michael woke up for real. He was laying on his back, no t-shirt but pajama bottoms on. He had kicked away the sheet in sleep. He felt not only the cool breeze of the island’s night air, but the whirring of the ceiling fan above him. He sighed heavily, residing in himself that he’d take what life handed him as it came. He would never hide nor squander away good luck anymore. He was ready to start fresh, begin a new day.

As he languidly stretched his arms from his sides, his right hand hit solid chest. A warm body lay beside him, peacefully slumbering. Michael let his hand explore, brushing over tank-t and down to pajama bottoms, skimming soft skin and muscular flesh. He bit his lip to hold back sobs.

Aaron... he  _had_ come to bed. Probably only intending to watch over him, but then being lulled into taking the empty space available and falling asleep. Michael remembered how exhausted Aaron sounded when he said he was “tired”, tired of everything involved in the situation they were in.

Michael turned to face Aaron, who was laying on his left side, and sidled closer. He picked up a limp arm to set around his body, the hand dangling free, finger down his lower back. He sunk lower, leaning forward to settle against the bulk of the strong chest. He tucked his arms between their bodies and with a light peck to Aaron’s jaw, Michael closed his eyes to complete bliss.

**= = = =**

Somehow Michael knew when he woke up he would find himself alone. But the sensation of Aaron having been wrapped around him, in the position Michael woke in, caused much relief. He could imagine being lovingly touched, cared for and, hopefully, kissed as Aaron made his hasty exit. Michael promptly went back to sleep.

It was barely the blue light of dawn.

Michael had been mostly right. Sometime in the night Michael had ventured over, he moved in slumber until he felt comfortable once again. Aaron couldn’t chance holding Michael, but he did share a decent amount of innocent touching, then tenderly pressed lips against skin. Michael was restless in his dreams, never saying full words or sentences. Aaron did what he could to calm Michael, everything but holding him. The risk was too great.

Aaron stood on the front porch, sipping freshly brewed coffee and wishing this whole situation weren’t coming to an end. Michael was nearly completely healed. Josette had informed him there would be two more days, the swelling non-existent, and the bandages could come off. Michael could try working on his vision slowly, day by day. Nearly two months of no ability to see made the body conform to other senses. Since blindness was only temporary, it would take a day or so to adjust to sunlight and focusing the pupils.

That gave Aaron, possibly, three days before Michael would see who he really was. He would know real truth, grow to hate Aaron and run back to Pittsburgh. Aaron wasn’t sure he was prepared to hand over Michael just yet. He thought about convincing Josette to prolong the bandages, but it was too late since she had allowed Michael those few random hours at night without them.

As usual, when he felt self-conscious and nervous, Aaron soothed the side of his face, while rolling the opposite side’s shoulder joint and flexing the biceps. Being reminded of his huge failure in his pretty wasteful life often caused him to switch on new feelings. Ones brought out to protect himself, defend his choices and actions taken.

He wouldn’t be any different around Michael in public, but alone... that was where the fantasy had to end. Michael wasn’t his husband or even his boyfriend. Aaron wasn’t even certain if Michael liked him. He knew he wanted him, desired him, could get fully aroused by him, but where did those kinds of feelings go when they were over? Certainly not toward any idea of permanence.

Aaron had done his duty, his good deed. Michael was safe now, healed. There was nothing left for him to do. He had to let him go.

**= = = =**

Michael could sense a change in Aaron, subtle yet present. He wondered if it was something he had done or said. Was it last night, early this morning or was it an overall frustration with him?

He didn’t know why but it was souring his day. He was sluggish and couldn’t seem to be bothered to lift a finger to help Josette. She had taken the bandages off so he could shower, she asked that he conserve washing his hair so as not to irritate his eyes. She warned him to stay out of the direct spray of the shower head, the force of the water might sting. Armed with all of Josette’s last minute instructions, Michael was finally left alone in the bathroom. With limited vision, he undressed and stepped under the hot spray. His mind was too preoccupied with worrying about what he had done to Aaron, he didn’t use the time to “take care of himself” like he normally would.

If he thought about it, his once rampant sexual drive had diminished. Where once any piece of man flesh would do the trick, now he found he was back to his old ways. Focusing on one sole person. He cared about Aaron. He was attracted to Aaron. He had never wanted to be held and treasured by another man as much as he did with Aaron.

Michael barely knew him. He didn’t even know what Aaron looked like. He knew surface information and whatever his other senses could gather. Michael turned off the water, grabbed the towel and stepped out of the shower. After drying off, he donned underwear and Khaki shorts. Not willing to remain in the steamed room, Michael opened the bathroom door while carrying the short-sleeved button shirt in his hand. He slowly wandered across the bedroom, stopping at the doorway onto the small terrace.

The breeze was glorious, cooling his moist exposed skin. He closed his lids and raised his head to feel heat on his face. No sunlight yet as he wasn’t past the roof marker. Michael couldn’t help grinning like a fool, some sort of giddiness striking him in that instance. 

Life felt good - great, even - for once. He could almost thank God he was alive to be in this moment... but right now that honor belonged to Aaron...

Opening his eyes, Michael started to realize, thinking back, that he had made it across the bedroom floor with no guidance or mishaps. When he looked out over the beautiful backyard and lifted a little higher to see out along the island to the crystal blue water... Michael knew he could see. Not much but his sight was back in one eye, the right. The socket’s puffiness had shrunk. Curiously cautious, Michael kept his back to the sun, but stepped nearly to the ledge. He could reach out and touch fingertips to the railing.

Now he could see more of the backyard. Little areas blocked off for flowers and shrubbery, an area of newly tilled ground for a vegetable garden. He recognized Josette immediately. He chuckled, tearing up a little to discover she looked every bit the “mom” he had hoped. She was talking to someone kneeling in the dirt, hunched over in a cowboy hat, with gloves on and working his hands in the rows of seedlings. From this high up, Michael could only say it was a man, dressed in jeans and white cotton t-shirt. Nothing more.

This had to be Aaron.

The breeze picked up a hearty laugh - two, in fact. Michael quickly moved to find Aaron throwing back his head, exposing a long tan throat, a sloped neck and collar, while Josette slapped her plump thigh in hilarity. Aaron used his arms to wipe at the dripping sweat - or the laughter-tears - from his face. Josette offered him a hand, which he took to stand to his feet.

Michael sucked in his breath, holding it, only because Aaron was so tall, broad-shouldered, filling out every inch of his clothing. He was dirty and sweaty, he looked as if he had rolled around on the ground for hours in mud and muck. Michael couldn’t recall seeing anything more sexy in his life... other than an actual naked man. What struck him next was that as Aaron took off the gloves, sticking them in the back pocket of his jeans, he reached out to tuck back wisps of Josette’s silver blonde hair. Something a son would do to his mother. Aaron rested his forearms on the strong shoulders, then leaned forward, as if to brush brows. He took off the cowboy hat, showing his wet dark brown locks, then plopped it on top of Josette’s head. The cowboy hat hid them from view.

Whatever they were whispering to one another was private and important between them. Michael backed away and started to put on his shirt, standing in the doorway. He heard a screen door shut downstairs, showing that one or both had entered the house. To be sure, Michael wandered to the railing again to find Aaron alone. He had a few uninterrupted minutes to stare before he heard Josette wander in.

“ It’s a breathtaking day, isn’t it?”

Michael hated to turn and walk away, but it was time for his bandages. He stepped into the room, hanging his head as if he’d been caught doing something horrible. “Yes. Yes, it is.” He was trying to button his shirt, but failing miserably. “Sorry.”

“ Don’t be.” Josette swiped away his apology as she walked over to help him. “Fresh air does those wounds good. It’s the direct sunlight you need to watch out for.”

Michael gave out a sweet smile, scratching at his cheek. “Duly noted.”

 

**= = = =TBC...= = = =**


	3. Chapter 3

Michael spared a glance toward Aaron, across the intimate setting of the table for two they’d been given tonight for their dinner. He picked up the cloth napkin, over his lap, and wiped at his mouth and chin.

“ They shouldn’t have done all this for us.” Michael motioned about the table surface.

Aaron let out a grunt-snicker. “They believe we haven’t been able to have a proper honeymoon. Especially since your ‘accident’ may have prevented us from being ‘intimate’ like they think we want to be.”

Michael hated how calmly Aaron could state the obvious. Not that Doc and Josette thought one thing, which was false... but that there was something real building between them they couldn’t touch. And not because of the reasons Aaron had given. “Are they trying to get you to seduce me?”

“ No.” Aaron let out a genuine chuckle, squirming in his chair. “Why? Is it working?”

“ Well, it would... if I knew you liked me.”

“ Wha-... what are you talkin-?”

Michael threw down his napkin over an empty plate. “Have I done something to upset or frustrate, you?”

“ No. Why would you-?” Aaron gripped the arms of his chair.

“ I may have little to no vision, Aaron, but that doesn’t mean I’m completely oblivious.” Michael leaned his elbows on the table, crossing his arms. “One doesn’t need eyes to see truth.” He meant for himself, with the realization he did know what was going to happen to him if he stayed in Pittsburgh, letting his way of life catch up to him and almost kill him, permanently.

“ Ah... and that ‘truth’ is?” Aaron crossed his own arms, leaning back in his seat.

“ I’ve been nothing but ‘work’ for you. I mean... you even admitted you started off hating me. Now you - I don’t know - you’re acting different around me.” Michael had expected outrage or Aaron angrily defending his actions today. He wasn’t expecting silence, then a sigh... and then more awkward silence, the thinking hard kind. “... Aaron...” With the shades on, and this candlelight between them, Aaron was somewhat of a blur over the table. He couldn’t tell if Aaron had gotten up and left.

“ ... sorry...” Aaron rubbed at his temple.

“ What for?”

“ I have been - like you said - different. But it’s for good reason.”

“ Oh?”

“ I never let the illusion of you take over. Yes, I could watch you from behind my lens, but... you and I were never meant to meet. Or be in the same room together.” Yet, here they were now... closer than Aaron had ever planned.

“ Why not? What’s wrong with me?” Michael pushed back, arms on the chair rests and hands rubbing over his thighs in the thick jeans.

“ It’s not you... it’s me.”

“ Aaron...” Michael surely didn’t want Aaron to take any blame or feel guilty for what he’d done.

Aaron shoved back his chair, getting up from the table to wander over to the railing. “Four days from now - maybe less - you won’t need the bandages any longer. You’ll adjust to your eyesight and... you’ll no longer need my protection. It’ll be your decision what you do next. It’s your new life. A chance to start fresh and new.”

“ Wha-... why are you doing this?” Michael blanched, this was like something he’d do to someone else. This never happened to him, directly.

“ What?”

Michael pushed back his own chair, walking to the railing, a few feet from where Aaron stood. “You’re intentionally pushing me away. Why? Again... is it something I’ve done?”

“ No. To my surprise, you’ve been less like who I thought you were and more like...”

“ More like-? Who? What?” Michael advanced, his hand extended to latch onto an arm. “.. please tell me. I wanna know.” He was desperate and hoped he didn’t sound it. “One of the things I love about you is...” He swallowed, wiping at his brow since he’d just said the word “love” while letting his mind free-flow a thought. “... is how curt and honest you can be. That’s been refreshing for me. People think they need to lie and placate me in order to win my favors.”

Aaron kept his face turned away. “... one of the warnings I was told was that with concussions people can... change. They told me the first two weeks with you unconscious you went into a ‘detox’ of sorts. You’re body purified itself, replenishing your system.” Then he turned back to look over at Michael. “I brought you to that safe house... had daily visits from nurses and they showed me how to tend to you at night. When we were alone, you’d... come at me. Like a banshee. You wanted me. So desperate at times you sometimes sobbed in my arms. I think I knew what was happening and I couldn’t do anything but let it course through your body.” He swallowed nervously as he averted his head. “It’s why you wore that ankle chain. You kept leaving your bed to come find me... nearly re-injuring yourself in the process...”

Michael brought his hands to his lower mouth and chin. “Wha-... why are you telling me this?”

“ I could always help you heal, but I can’t help you be someone you’re not. Or will never be.”

Michael flinched back his head, lifting his chin high. “I did do something, didn’t I? During those fits between waking up and passing out again...” He bent his head in shame, chin to chest and pinching between his eyes, under his brow.

This time Aaron was the one who walked closer. He wanted to reassure Michael he wasn’t disgusted or turned-off by the arousal states he’d been in. “Look, I don’t see anything wrong with being hyper-sexual. It just isn’t for me. I never thought I’d actually start to understand why having that...  _connection_ with someone was important.” He reached out to touch Michael tenderly on the arm, soothing the surface of the shirt sleeve. “Having you here with me and in my life, I’ve learned I want  _that..._ that unobtainable life gay men are refused _.”_

Michael took a tiny step back when Aaron faced him and lifted an arm to gently touch his face and hair. He closed his eyes, nothing so familiar like that caress could ever phase him. Nothing he knew would compare, he wasn’t sure he’d ever find its equal.

“ It’s okay to be scared. To be afraid. I am.” Aaron touched his own chest. “Constantly. More that one day I’ll be found out for the fraud I am.”

“ Fraud? I’m not...” Michael shook his head, turning so his back was to the railing, his elbows on the wooden slats. “... sorry. I don’t follow what you mean.” He almost moaned out loud when Aaron pulled away, removing his hand. “I get that we’re different. Un-alike in every way. But...” He shook his head, saddened. “... why can’t  _that_ be what draws us together? Am I not interesting enough?”

Aaron laughed outright, throwing his head back like he had done with Josette this morning. Even from behind dark sunglasses, Michael could decipher the beauty present before him. Aaron was... handsome. And sometimes breathtaking, doing the most mundane things.

“ Oh, Michael...” Aaron reached out to pat, then squeeze Michael’s arm on the railing. “... you’re the right amount of interesting to be exciting. But... I’m not who I was anymore. Somewhat like you, in upbringing. Self-taught and educated by my own willingness to better myself. I was successful because I wanted the power. Power over my father... my waste of a mother.” He cleared his throat to continue. “I wanted to show them I wasn’t the ‘trash’ they thought I’d turn out to be. Just because my father was a failure and made nothing of his life, didn’t mean I had to do the same.” He wandered off the terrace into the bedroom. He wasn’t even looking behind to see if Michael followed.

Michael was trailing behind. He was in the doorway of the terrace, feeling as if his heart might explode out of his chest. He was trapped between feeling so much love for one person and the idea that the same person had the power to shatter him to little pieces. He’d done so well all the years protecting himself from this very thing. What he had to do now was be patient and just listen. He was obviously being let into Aaron’s life without needing to beg and prod needlessly.

“ I took my first photograph when I was seventeen. I entered into a contest and won cash, along with a prestigious award. I had offers left and right. Art schools begging me to come to them on full four year scholarships.” Aaron smiled lightly, giving off a chuckle. “I liked it - the attention. But it made me feel strangely empty inside. The right people weren’t seeing me succeed. My connections, in and out of school, got me some great experiences I could never dream of. When I graduated, I had plenty of job offers and various choices I could take to use my photography skills.” He wandered around the room, picking up little items to look at and then set down again. “I still liked my art pieces, but I got into pictorials. Human lives to nameless face. I’d do odd freelance work, here and there... but it never seemed enough. Emptiness was still there.” He spoke louder when he noticed that Michael still remained in the doorway. “I soon realized I was happiest - at my most content - behind my camera. I always saw reality through my lens. I stepped into fashion photography for a good three years. Made a name for myself. Still never reached my parents. Or... they had become immune to my crazy obsessiveness about them acknowledging me.” He swiveled to smile, begrudgingly, not like he felt like smiling. “They liked the money I sent them the best.”

Michael knew he was being given a privilege not most had been shown. Maybe not even the Doc or Josette. He folded his arms and leaned back on the doorjamb, intensely enveloped in Aaron’s story.

“ I was in a fashion shoot. Spring ‘01. I recall the moment I decided this wasn’t for me. My model wasn’t cooperating. She wasn’t famous on her own. Daughter of a real estate tycoon. She didn’t even really like modeling.” Aaron was quietly laughing as he spoke, rubbing at his lips. “I walked off the set, never once looking back or caring about my reputation. I don’t regret that choice. I felt I needed more.” He picked up his steps again, using his hands in the air as he talked eloquently as if he was recanting a tale in a book at bedtime. “So I dug around and reintroduced myself to pictorials, my small forays into photo-journalism. I’d done some pieces for TIME and NEWSWEEK. Little pieces, nothing too fantastic, but it was deep, heart breaking and real. Went on location to third world countries. I knew I could do this well. I didn’t know the choice I made would almost be the end of me...”Aaron didn’t pay attention to the noise Michael made across the room, he still kept moving about the floor, as if pacing to begin thinking on what to reveal next.

Michael had gasped, hand to his chest. He couldn’t help it. There was a power in the room Aaron commanded. His voice strong and confident, the little mannerisms of his face giving away more of the story than just mere words. Aaron had heart... integrity. Yes, he’d reached success, but he had remained humbled and grounded, knowing exactly from where he’d come from. Willing to change to better himself, find something more to do with his life. Even when it was completely barren and empty.

Aaron had taken a seat at the end of the bed, on the trunk braced against the foot-board, head was bowed chin to chest. “I don’t remember the actual moments... I only know what I was doing before and what happened a few minutes following... There I was...” As he talked, he had no idea he was turning his face to the bad side. “... taking pictures of the village and its inhabitants. Everyone welcoming and smiling... There was warmth and love. They thought we were Gods - saviors. Thought all Americans were rich, white men come to save them and their families.” He started using his hands again as he talked. “So I’m standing there... calm as you please... helping the local school children take their class photo... I was looking through my lens when the shots rang out. Not just random, accidental single shots, but multiple, purposeful ones...”

Michael pushed off from the door-jamb, making his way across the room. It had to be the way Aaron was talking, using the inflection of his voice with the lowering of his head in shame. Michael felt the tears build as he moved to take off his shades.

“ ... suddenly, it’s chaos and the US Aide teams and the Red Cross, who had been there way before Rod and I arrived... it’s like they’re preparing for war. There are orders to hide the women and children, the men mobilizing to form an army of their own to fight back. I wouldn’t know this until much, much later, but this was a moment they’d been anticipating happening. Four months of peace and quiet, allowing medicines and relief efforts to come in. Yeah, everyone knew that time was limited before the militia showed...”

Michael paused in his steps because Aaron had finally raised his head, his own tears having fallen as he recounted his story. But that wasn’t what really caused Michael to go still. By now Aaron wasn’t thinking about much else but speaking his truth. That’s when Michael saw _them_ ... the deep scars jutting down the left side of that perfectly handsome face to get lost in the hairline or down the jaw, along the neck. Aaron was wearing a buttoned shirt, over a tank-t, but Michael didn’t need to see anymore to know that not all of those scars were visible to him. It explained a lot to why Aaron wouldn’t allow himself to hold Michael... or why he always tried to initiate a motion to touch or caress.

“ ... eh, I did what my lazy American ass could...” Aaron swiped down his face with one palm. “... but the one thing I couldn’t stop doing was taking pictures.” He felt ashamed of that action, even though when they’d gotten hold of his film they were able to figure out the culprits of the attack and then publish a scathing article in the United States in every news magazine they could get their hands on. “Grenades and bombs going off around didn’t seem to phase me. Even when there was blood in my eye. Not around it, but IN it.” He had demonstrated which eye and from where the blood had seeped out. “Rebels from neighboring villages and the village men themselves fought off the militia until they backed down, chased them away.” Aaron closed his lids, shaking his head. “My memory can’t seem to recall what I did in the meantime, but I must’ve done some good. Rod, the journalist I was paired with, had been killed instantly by a sniper rifle. They told me I saved a few kids and their caretakers... from a burning, shelled out orphanage.” Emotions choked him, but he cleared his throat to go on. “I only knew at the end of it all, I couldn’t see from my left eye or hear out of my left ear. I couldn’t get the blood to stop. I wouldn’t sit down, I kept wanting to move... they had to give me a sedative to keep me still...” He held out his hands from his body, looking down at them. “... I shook so badly from the shock alone...”

That was it. Aaron stopped talking. No gradual dissent into a happier ending, not even one with some optimistic outlook on his future. He simply ended it. Period.

Michael was close now. He took the spot near to Aaron, on the bed. He turned his head, not once wiping away his own tears. He lifted his arm, resting the wrist on the slope of the right shoulder. Aaron leaned toward him, his head hitting Michael’s biceps. Michael then moved even nearer, raising his arm so Aaron could lay directly on his chest. Now his arm was on the left side. As Aaron turned his face into the shirt material, he exposed the whole stretch of damaged skin. Michael swallowed with some difficulty but sighed to resign in himself...  _this_ was what had Aaron running away from him. He let his fingers skim over the scars, caressing them as if they were fresh and painful, lightly combing back the hair. “... this... is why you think we’re incompatible...”

Aaron forgot himself and dipped into Michael’s tenderness, then he remembered he couldn’t have this, not the way he wanted. He flinched back, keeping his face turned away from Michael. “Your life is filled with gorgeous and beautiful people. I won’t ever be that again. I’m not sure if I didn’t have these scars to remind me... that I’d want to be in your world.”

“ Do I  _disgust_ you that much?”

Aaron took a minute of pause, where his mouth was parted wide to say something, but it was rather truth-telling to have the word thrown back at him that he feared from Michael. “No. I don’t think you’re ‘disgusting’. I think the lifestyle you choose is. It’s an empty, lonely existence. You’ll never find a resting place. A safe haven.” He stood from the trunk and turned to face Michael. “You’ll always be moving... and I know now that I need stability. I need someone I can trust. I need... love.” With that said, he left the room.

Michael was stunned into silence, unable to move. Not because his heart was breaking, but because his heart was singing, rejoicing.

Funny how Aaron thought them different when they couldn’t be more alike if they had tried.

**= = = =**

Michael was having another tough night. Instead of nightmares, he couldn’t sleep. It was Aaron’s fault. No, actually, it was his own heart’s fault. Back to that desperate feeling of wanting and needing love from one person who wasn’t willing to give in so easily. Blaming Aaron was unfair.

The room was dark, like always. Night breezes blowing in, ceiling fan on low. Michael lay on his back; one arm above his head, the other resting across his stomach. The light dressing taped over his eyes betraying the fact he was wide wake.

The door inched open, soft footfalls of bare feet. Next the heavy weight of another body easily crawling in next to him. His heart picked up speed, pulses thumping. The body lay on its left side, simply resting for awhile, breathing deeply and obviously staring at him sleeping. There was a soft kiss to his bare shoulder, the swift brush of fingers along his arm to tangled with his fingers. The body huddled down, snuggling close to his side. It wasn’t long before the person fell asleep, himself.

Jesus... how long had Aaron been doing this with him? Since coming to this island retreat or since... well, since Michael had been under his private care? It warmed Michael, tugging at his heart, that despite Aaron refusing to succumb to his want while awake, there was less resistance in sleep. There was a place for them to be with no restrictions, no judgments and no demands.

Michael waited before he shifted, adjusting his body to lay on his right and face Aaron. With head on pillow, Michael noticed Aaron had been using him as one, so now his left cheek hit the bed. Using delicate slowness, Michael placed Aaron’s head on the pillow beside his own. He pet the skin, feeling the smoothness of the uninjured cheek. Not used to being touched so freely, Aaron fidgeted, lifting his head off the pillowcase, allowing Michael to feel the left with his hands.

At first, it was the fear that made Michael hesitant. But as his skin made contact he could tell there wasn’t a major difference from the right side. Yes, he felt the deep ridges of the scars, but that was minimal. Michael shuffled closer, wanting to tuck his face into Aaron’s neck, rub the side of his face together with Aaron’s cheek to stay near.

Aaron woke up to the quiet acceptance Michael was showing him. “... sorry...” He mumbled as he felt ashamed of his secretive actions. “I’m not doing this right, am I?”

“ What? You’re doing a great job of holding me.” Michael loved the tight secure arm around him, keeping him close to Aaron’s chest. 

“ No. I’m not apologizing for that. I meant... I think I’m confusing you. Pushing you away, while pulling you back. I’m afraid I don’t really know how to do this.”

Michael drew backward as if his bandaged eyes could see through the gauze. He felt the fingers on his face, the nails pulling at the medical tape. With the gauze off, even in the darkness, Michael could see Aaron perfectly. “Do what?”

“ How to let you go completely.” Aaron leaned his head against Michael’s lower face.

Michael turned to press tender kisses to warm skin. “Who says you have to?”

“ This... isn’t right. This isn’t how normal people meet and-”

“ ... fall in love...” Michael finished for Aaron, knowing exactly what he meant to say. “Well, I was never one for conformity or rules. I like defying logic or common sense. I always thought it would take an extraordinary circumstance for me to even open my heart like I once had.”

“ So you weren’t always the party boy I know you to be?”

“ No. I had a failed romance back in my college years. He really felt like he would be the last time I’d love freely... and so fiercely.” Michael rubbed at Aaron’s cheek, like he would sometimes do to a sleeping Michael.

“ And now?”

“ I don’t think it’s fair to compare the two. What I felt back then surely wasn’t anything like I feel right now.”

“ What do you feel now?”

“ Peace. A sense of calm.” Michael watched Aaron dip his head to kiss his shoulder. “I think I partied as hard and fast as I did because I wasn’t able to find ‘home’ again.” He soothed a finger over Aaron’s lips, watching them part. “But I have, I think. I have found home, again... with you.”

Aaron dipped again to take Michael’s mouth, his arms moving around and hands exploring. Michael rolled them to land on Aaron’s back, planting both hands beside Aaron’s head. Michael drew away to breathe and say more.

“ I have one more question.”

“ Which is?”

“ After all these years... who gets to take care of you?” Michael could see it in Aaron’s eyes. He’d given up too much for the old life he had coveted. He soothed his hands over Aaron’s cheeks. “... then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not moving from your side, no matter how hard you push me away.” He bent to mesh their foreheads, lips barely apart. “... I’m yours, as you are mine... always...”

“ ... michael...” Aaron choked out as he bit at his lower lip.

“ Hmm?”

“ ... Aaron’s not my real name. It’s my middle name. I use it professionally.”

Michael brushed his nose along Aaron’s face. “Oh... what should I call you now?”

“ ... brian...”

Michael smiled broadly, closing his lids.  _“... brian... brian... brian...”_ He lowered his voice to barely a whisper, uttering the name against Aaron’s - now, Brian’s - mouth. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

“ ... uh, no...” Brian chuckled breathlessly. “... not right now. I think we’re good.”

“ ... so good...” Michael dipped to bump brows with Brian. He kept his eyes shut, grinning like an idiot. “I hope you don’t mind.” He found the bandage and began to cover his eyes. Brian started to help him out, with shaking hands. “I’m curious to know. This isn’t a reflection on you. I’ve gotten to know you best without... you know. I think it’s only fitting we let the moment ride itself out.”

Brian reached up to soothe the sides of Michael’s face. “I’m not offended. Trust me.” He couldn’t help smiling, either, looking at how happy Michael was and how confidant he was acting. “The less you have to see of me...” He wasn’t allowed to finish that sentence as Michael swooped in to steal a long, drawn-out messy smooch. “... the better...” He muttered as he tried to wipe at his wet mouth.

“ After this moment, no more hiding. Promise?”

“ ... yeah... yes...”

“ For both of us.” Michael pushed himself to sit upright, then proceeded to roll his hips into Brian’s body, able to feel the heat and throbbing beneath. Michael splayed hands over the flat abdomen, fitting them under the tank-t hem, and increased his gyration speed. “... fuck me, it’s been too long... I’m so hard, I could cum from this alone...”

“ I wouldn’t object."

Hands gripped his hips, smoothing along the outside of his upper thighs. “Seriously?” Michael couldn’t believe what he was being allowed to do.

“ ... yeah...”

“ Whoa... that’s a first for me. I’ve watched others, but I’ve never been watched, myself.”

Using one hand planted on the mattress for balance, Brian sat upright. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’ll understand.”

Michael held him back with one hand, palm to chest. “I want to. I want to - for you.” He surrounded his arms around Brian’s neck, enveloping him close to tuck his face in the throat. He felt the light kisses to his near burning flesh. “I want you to enjoy my body.” He ended the statement with a thrust. “It’s no longer mine. I share it with you, willingly.” Again, another thrust as a hand wandered under Brian’s tank-t to search out the bare skin, nearing a pert nipple.

Brian spanned his hands over Michael’s naked back, sending them down to slip beneath to the waistband of the pajama bottoms. He cupped the plump backside, spreading the cheeks. The more he massaged, the more the material lowered. Michael’s cock was slipping out to poke and prod at his belly.

The skin on skin contact sent Michael into hyper-motion. He closed his eyes, held on and thrust with all the strength in him. The tight friction brought him to a quick orgasm that had him coming apart in Brian’s arms. He continued to spasm and quiver, going limp with exhaustion within Brian’s grasp. With a masterful understanding of Michael and his body, Brian gently rolled them to set Michael on his back. He removed the briefs and pajama bottoms, then slowly massaged up the legs, placing himself between the spread of the thighs. He had swiftly undressed himself, throwing his own clothes over the side of the bed with Michael’s.

He started with one leg first, then went on to massage both, paying close attention to the inner portion. The more intense and deep the touch, the wider Michael’s legs became. His cock was rock hard again, not like it hadn’t gone down from the first ejaculation.

Aligning his body with Michael’s, Brian easily fit himself within the spread of Michael’s thighs. His own cock erect and sliding along the crack of the plump ass. He reached out to the surface of the nightstand to grab for lubrication and the condom packets. Squeezing a generous amount over his fingers, he prepared the anus for entry, making sure to thoroughly coat the loose skin.

He was tender with each finger thrust, aroused by every jolt of Michael’s body at being invaded. He increased the speed and added a finger, nearly sending Michael spiraling into another orgasm. Michael gripped Brian’s biceps like they were his very lifeline. With agility, Brian donned the latex, replacing his fingers with the tip of his cock.

“ ... sorry... it’s been a while for me...”

“ ... i’s okay... me, too... I won’t break...”

“ ... obviously...”

With one strong thrust, Brian was deeply embedded. He cringed at the tightness, while Michael squirmed at the thickness. He held onto Brian with a death-like grip, a silent signal to let their joining become comfortable for both of their bodies. It was good. The nearness of one another gave them an excuse to caress and kiss, something they had perfected between them. For a time, Brian simply lay his cheek down, soaking up being surrounded by one single, pure emotion he never knew was his to have - love. He felt it around him pouring out of Michael into him, by mere touches; to his scarred cheek and over the right shoulder where he had second degree burns and a gunshot wound that had shattered the shoulder joint, nearly rendering the whole arm useless. He grabbed for Michael’s wandering hand, brought the fingers to his lips to kiss, then heard the sniffling. 

Brian raised his head to find tears being shed for him. Odd to be so connected to another that the mere sight of them crying, or their pain and suffering being visible, became your own.

“ ... don’t...” He tenderly pressed his mouth under each eye, his throat choking with emotions.

Michael grabbed the back of Brian’s head, fingers caught in silky locks. “This is what love is, I believe. Sharing of burdens and pain. I know my own, but I barely scratched the surface of yours. I don’t have to see you to understand your hurt or why you keep walking around with a bruised heart.” He slid his face down to speak into an ear. “... never again be afraid to let someone in. We’re one... always...”

With shame and guilt heavy with what he was about to do, Brian buried his face at the side of Michael’s neck. He set his arms behind Michael’s legs, almost folding him in half. It opened his hole wider, allowing deeper penetration that forced Michael to cry out with pleasure.

“ ... oh, god!...”

“ Please... forgive me...”

At that request, Michael could sense he was in for the fucking of his life. Weird to feel that with the inclusion of deep love and affection, this moment had become more erotic and arousing than anything he’d ever done before in bed with another man. The thrusts were slow - long and deep. He thought to hold onto Brian as best he could. When the thrusts were increasing fast, he let his hands roam down Brian’s body, ending at the perfect ass cheeks, which he began to push the motions further, wishing for pain and pleasure. But it never came - the pain - only continual amounts of undeniable pleasure, near euphoria.

Michael orgasmed once, arching back and throwing his arms out and upward. He’d never known possession of his body, his very soul, to be such a freeing experience. A loving gesture. A merging of bodies to one solitary end. He felt the rise of a build-up in more semen, shocked that Brian could still penetrate with such vigor and strength, never seeming to weaken.

It was after his second release that Michael felt Brian slow down, but only enough to allow his body to shake with its own ecstasy and fulfillment. Within five thrusts, Brian cried out, shooting his seed into the condom’s tip. Not once or twice, but in a series of nine successions. Brian still felt there was more even as he collapsed on top of Michael. He was safely cocooned within strong arms, held close to a rapidly beating heart. Brian’s legs began to shake, quivering in the aftermath. Michael tangled the limbs with his own. He pressed kisses to a sweaty temple, rubbing over the wide expanse of naked back.

“ ... sorry...”

“ Stop apologizing. I’m not complaining.”

“ Am I heavy?”

“ No. You feel good.” Michael combed through moist locks of hair at the nape of the neck. “Rest now. We have plenty of time to perfect this between us.”

“ ... thank you.”

“ For what?” Michael tilted his head toward Brian’s face.

“ ... jus’ because...”

“ I know. I know what you mean.”

And Michael wasn’t lying. He wasn’t sure he would ever be capable of lying again. Brian had certainly cured him of that bad habit. He secretly wondered what else Brian could teach him or what he could, maybe, teach Brian.

And he wondered how Brian would react if he said something like...

“ _I wish this were a real marriage.”_

Brian raised his head, using one hand to gently remove the tape to take off the bandages over Michael’s eyes.

Brown eyes stared into hazel ones, gazing intensely in bewilderment.

“ What if we were?”

“ Huh?” Michael wasn’t sure what Brian was asking him.

“ Married. Would it ruin everything you have back in Pittsburgh?”

Michael’s eyes deeply searched out Brian’s face, loving how determined and confident he looked and sounded. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“ My honesty is rubbing off on you. I like it.”

“ I don’t know, Brian...” Michael saw how the name registered some pleasure on the features above him.

“ About marriage? Or marriage to me?”

“ Let me finish a damn thought first.” He softly swat at Brian’s shoulder. “Don’t put words in my mouth I don’t mean.”

“ Sorry. Habit.”

“ What I was about to say is... I don’t know because I don’t really have much of a life to go back to. I think I’ve been dead inside, for years.” Michael slunk down to reach up and touch Brian’s face above him. “I only just came back to life.”

“ I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, then.” Brian couldn’t hide the smile widening his face, trying to hide behind a hand.

“ I believe... that was a ‘hells yes!’.”

“ Me, too.”

They stared at one another, twisting their heads to find other ways to look at each other’s features, finding new interesting things to admire and love.

“ What?”

“ I’ve been dead - empty inside - for awhile, too. My feelings for you started in a dark place.” Brian gently caressed Michael’s face, this time while he was awake and able to enjoy the action. “Maybe I saw too much of myself in you. I couldn’t be bothered dealing with the same shit all over again.”

“ But...” Michael could hear there was more to be said.

“ Something changed in me when I arrived too late to save you from getting beaten. I’d intentionally kept myself away, until it ate at my gut. I brought you to the hospital as soon as I could, hoping I wasn’t too late.” Brian was ashamed of what he’d done to Michael, knowing he could’ve stopped his injuries from happening. But then... they never would’ve had the chance to meet this way and find one another. “Even with my own accident, I’d never had a worse month, not knowing if you’d live or die.”

Michael quickly pulled Brian down to him, hugging him fiercely. “Scary.”

“ It’s a miracle you’re not permanently damaged, like me.” Brian soothed his hands up and down Michael’s flanks, tucking under his body.

“ See... you did save my life.”

Face pressed against Michael’s bare chest, Brian spoke rather softly against the skin. “... would you be willing to save mine?” 

Michael went momentarily breathless with shock. They had joked around earlier, but this was Brian being dead serious. It really wasn’t good form to hesitate in an answer. “... yes!...” He had sensed his body wanting to accept before the word passed his lips.

They wrapped their arms around one another; one around shoulders, the other around the waist. They merged their brows, closing their eyes... lips only inches from one another as they declared their love on a whisper, letting the words tangle in the air to rest between them.

 

**the end.**


End file.
